


Operation Mistletoe

by HanginWithLilJ (FlyDizzeeD)



Series: Countdown to Christmas [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alfredo is a good bro, Christmas, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Gift Giving, M/M, Mistletoe, Mutual Pining, Trevor gets his man, all of RT is a good bro, they are bad at it, they attempt to flirt, this is adorable pointless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 15:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16998075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyDizzeeD/pseuds/HanginWithLilJ
Summary: When simple gift giving goes awry, Trevor has to face the fact he's sorta head over heels for Matt. Then he has to decide what he's going to do about that.He's a sucker for the cliché.





	Operation Mistletoe

Trevor doesn't go out to dinner often. He's usually too busy, or too tired, or has a new recipe he'd rather try to make himself instead. So while the gift card he receives for some Italian place is nice, and he thanks his parents kindly, he doesn't have much use for it. It's some sort of “sorry we aren't together for Thanksgiving” gift, so he figures paying it forward is within the spirit of the occasion. He'll just give it to whoever he sees at work.

Except, well, Trevor never can keep things simple.

It would be weird to get a random gift card, right? And he doesn't want to make anyone feel like they have to give _him_ something. That's not the point of it. The card sits in his wallet for four days as he thinks it over, trying to figure out the best person to give it to. He attempts to ignore how often his brain circles around to the same person. That would be too obvious, wouldn't it? But that thought makes him shake his head as he washes a glass back in his apartment, because there's no way they'd know he has some level of feelings behind the gesture.

There's no way Matt knows how Trevor feels.

And boy does he feel.

He feels giddy when Matt laughs at something he says, feels ten times lighter when the man is simply around, and feels terrified of the whole mess. It's been a few months now since he realized that the way Matt's smile makes it hard for him to breathe is probably a more than platonic feeling, and he has done nothing about that realization other than avoid his co-worker for a week before coming to terms with it and somewhat carrying on with life in a somewhat normal way.

So, yeah, he wants to give Matt the gift card. He _really_ wants to give Matt the gift card, because he's heard him talk about this place before, and he knows how happy Matt will be to have it. Trevor sorta wants Matt to be happy all the time, and he sorta wants Matt to be happy because of _him_.

That's why he's peeking into the office and surveying the room. Alfredo, Jack, and Michael are at their computers, but the room is empty aside from those three. He attempts to act casual as he walks in and goes over to Matt's new desk. Alfredo glances over at him before going back to whatever video he seems to be editing. There's a tape dispenser on Lindsay's desk, so he reaches over and tears off a piece. He pulls out the card, which is folded inside a piece of paper, and tapes it directly to the monitor. The note wrapped around the gift card simply reads; “Remember to use napkins. -Trevor.”

His heart is going a bit fast because his body likes to be entirely unreasonable. Trevor turns on his heel and heads for the door, almost at soccer mom speed-walk pace. He almost makes it. His hand is reaching for the handle, but he's a fool to think he could escape this without commentary.

“That's just fucking adorable.”

Michael's voice hits him as he walks out the door.

\---

He's late, but that's not too unusual, and nobody cares enough to mention it. There's nothing Matt needs to record today so it's not like he's kept anyone waiting. When he enters the office, though, he can't help but notice Alfredo starting him down. Like, dead in the eyes, squinting a bit, fully turned around in his chair with his legs crossed and hands clasped together like some budget Bond villain. And then it all vanishes as Alfredo breaks into an easy grin and spins back around to face his own workspace.

Okay.

Matt looks up at the ceiling to see if he can spot any Rube Goldberg-esque traps ready to spring. Nothing. Alright. He's cautious as he crosses the room, eventually making it to his desk unscathed.

Oh.

He pulls the note off his computer screen, eyebrows furrowing at the message. Something slips out and lands on his keyboard. A gift card.

Matt sits at his desk quietly.

And he tries not to think about Trevor Collins.

He fails. Miserably. It's Trevor, after all, and it's been a while since he's been able to keep the man off his mind. His soft voice, his good looks. How he does nice things for people just because it's in his nature to do so. And he's just another one of those people, because there is no God damn way Trevor could actually like him the way he likes Trevor. The gross, sappy thoughts of imagined dates are not mutual. He can live with that, usually, but now Trevor has snuck into his head for the remainder of the day. Bastard. No part of him holds it against Trevor. The man doesn't know about his feelings, so it's not like he's getting led on or whatever some asshole would make of the situation.

Regardless, Matt has a competitive streak a mile long, and he will not be bested. Besides, he'd feel bad for not returning the favor anyway. While his computer has actual important tabs open, his brain is busy with more important considerations.

He doesn't notice Alfredo's occasional glances.

\---

“Oh, come on.”

Trevor groans and runs a hand through his hair in annoyance. The bottle of orange juice sitting on his desk (next to a bag of donut holes) has a sticky note on the side. He turns it to read what it says.

“Remember to use napkins. -Matt.”

He has no clue what possessed Matt Bragg and suddenly made him return a favor, but it is what it is. He's more confused by the eyes he can feel burning holes in him. Alfredo the watcher strikes again.

“Hey, 'fredo.” Trevor says, attempting to keep casual.

“You're gonna buy him something, aren't you?”

“Absolutely.”

His friend sighs. “You're hopeless.”

It wasn't long after Trevor made some sense of his feelings that he had talked to Alfredo about it. He'd been nervous at the time, but they're a team, just the two of them, and the massive relief of talking to someone else about something confusing and new has helped him immensely. The teasing can get a bit annoying, though. 

“Probably.” He admits. “But a boy's gotta try.”

The other man snorts. “This is your idea of romancing someone?”

Turning on the computer and reaching for his headphones, Trevor shrugs. “It's the best I've got.”

\---

“Matt Bragg!” Gavin yells.

“Gavin Free.” 

“Where'd you get this?”

Matt glances up from his phone, having just walked in the door, to see whatever the other is yelling about. He does a double take when he realizes what Gavin is holding.

The Mudkip plush still has the tags. There doesn't seem to be a note attached to it, but there doesn't need to be for Matt to know who it's from.

“Oh, uh, there was a sale on Amazon so I ordered him. Jeremy has Voltorb, so I should have Kippers, right?” He doesn't know why he's lying. This is dumb. But Gavin buys it, laughing a bit as he tosses the little toy to Matt, who barely catches it without dropping his phone.

“I'd get one but I don't think they make a Squirtle small enough.” Says Gavin. He heads back over to his own desk, ending the conversation naturally.

Matt sits down and examines the stuffed Pokémon a bit closer. It's a totally normal Mudkip. The fabric is soft under his curious touch, and setting it down reveals that it can stand up on its own. Neat. The tags show it's official, too. The little plush's eyes seem like they're watching him right back. It's adorable, and he kinda loves it.

God damn it, Trevor.

\---

It goes on like that, little gifts given quietly. A soda here, video game there. Matt slowly gets more annoyed a Trevor steps it up, always getting the perfect gift for him while Matt struggles to do the same. It's a weird competition, but it's one he's determined to win. Trevor, meanwhile, is busy dealing with the teasing of their friends. They seem to have realized what this is all about long before Matt, which is just great.

“So, what did you get him today?” Lindsay asks as she walks in right behind him, the two having gone to lunch together prior.

Trevor shrugs. “Candy canes and some cookies. It's almost Christmas, right?”

“He'll love that.”

A sigh.

“I sure hope so.”

Everyone is on today, since they have a lot to record. Matt and Alfredo have yet to return from their own lunch break, though, so he takes the opportunity. He pulls a grocery bag out from under his desk and takes out the gifts. Simple, but thoughtful. He knows Matt Bragg, and he knows him well. Quickly, he clears a spot on the man's crowded desk to set the things down.

“Hey Trevor.”

“JESUS!” He screeches, spinning around to look at Matt, who crept up behind him. They're face to face, only separated by a few inches and a massive amount of tension. “Oh, uh, hey Matt.”

“Candy canes?”

“Uh… merry Christmas?” Trevor tries, smiling.

A period of silence ensues, neither wanting to say anything. It's painfully awkward, especially when the room is full of their co-workers and friends. Matt bites his lip before eventually opening his mouth to speak. The problem is, he's swiftly cut off by someone else.

“Could you two just touch each other's dicks already and get it over with?” Geoff yells, not looking away from his computer.

Matt chokes on his words and Trevor is gone from the room before he can recover. He tries to follow, but Gavin reminds him what time it is, and how many things they need to record today, and can they please save their rom-com nonsense for somewhere else?

Eyes forward, heart racing, Trevor speed-walks out of the building and to his car. He tries not to think too hard about how Matt didn't come chasing after him, because that's stupid, Trevor, he doesn't even understand this dumb game you've made up. His hands are shaking as he opens the door and slides in the driver's seat, but he knows better than to attempt driving when he's this upset. This unreasonably upset. He rests his forehead on the steering wheel, holds the back of his head, closes his eyes, and tries to not think of Matt Bragg.

\---

The main lights are lowered a bit so the little red and green LEDs around the door frames and along the coving of the rooms can twinkle for the office Christmas party, hosted this year by Gavin so people can stop complaining about never being invited to his house. The house is filled with laughter and conversation, along with plenty of alcohol and food. It's also containing a very downtrodden boy.

“Come on, Trevor,” Alfredo says, frowning at his friend, “I promise you'll have fun if you just relax. Talk to someone! People are worried, man.” His voice is hushed so others can't eavesdrop too easy on their conversation in Gavin's kitchen, where Trevor has spent the entire evening thus far.

For the umpteenth time, Trevor sighs. “I know, I know. I'm sorry, man, it's just-- well, you know. And it's hard, because he's out there.”

“We have a plan, dude, don't worry.” Alfredo grins.

“Yes, we have a stupid plan that won't work. Go team!”

He gets a shrug in return. “Hey, it's better than leaving a bunch of random gifts on his desk and hoping he connects the dots himself. Matt Bragg is a simple man, Trevor, you have to be straightforward.”

Pushing off the counter he's been leaning against, Trevor has one hand on his hip and one in his hair as he paces in the small space. “Yeah, I get it, my plan sucked. But this is still… I'm still… I'm nervous, 'fredo. He looked so confused in the office. What if he really doesn't like me?”

The other man snorts. “Trevor, trust me, he's just as crazy gay for you as you are for him.” He jokes, but his next words sound more serious. “You're gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay. And if it's not, you've got me, and so many others. We love you, man, and we just wanna see both of you idiots happy.”

“Thanks, Alfredo.”

“You're welcome. Now get out there and stop looking emo.”

He gets out there and tries his best not to look emo, though he's still aware of how he looks otherwise. He's overly cautious to make sure no eggnog drunk co-worker spills anything on his soft, dark grey sweater. It's brand new, and it's layered over a white button down and paired with one of his nicer, slimmer fitting pairs of beige pants. Alfredo thinks he looks like a nerd, but he feels good and at least a bit confident. That is, until he spots Matt. Then he mostly feels nervous. Whatever. It's now or never, right?

Matt's talking with Barb when Trevor walks over. Barb notices him first, smiles, and whistles.

“Looking good, Treyco.” She says with a wink. Matt turns around to see him. Trevor probably puts more thought into the way Matt looks him up and down and raises his eyebrows than the man himself does, but that's fine.

“Damn. Didn't know there was a dress code.” Matt jokes, trying and mostly succeeding to dodge around the awkwardness that has lingered around the both of them for over a week.

“There wasn't.” He shrugs. “But I like to set the standard.”

Barbara snorts and nearly chokes on her drink. “Smooth. And pompous. I'm gonna go talk to Mariel, but you two have fun.”

“I was actually coming over to steal Matt away for drinks.”

“Wait, you were?”

He nods and turns back to the kitchen, a hand on Matt's shoulder now. Trevor looks over his own shoulder as he guides the other man away.

“Try not to stare too hard.” He teases.

She laughs and eyes his ass before winking. “No promises.” And then mouths, “Good luck.”

He faces forward again.

“Where have you been, man? I saw you get here over an hour ago but haven't seen you since.” Matt chats idly as they head back towards the kitchen.

_I've been hiding in the kitchen because you're cute and you scare me._

“Out back.”

Matt hums, and they're a few feet from the kitchen. The entry, of which, has a piece of mistletoe hanging over head. Because of course there is.

And he is going to kiss Matt Bragg.

He is going to grab his dumb, adorable face and kiss him.

Except he's not, because Matt stops walking. He looks at the other man, confused. “What's up?”

“I think my phone is going off.” Matt explains, pulling the offended thing from his pocket. Sure enough, he's getting as call. Trevor doesn't recognize the number, and there's no contact saved, but Matt apparently knows exactly who it is.

“Shit. I gotta take this, I'll be out front where it's quieter. Sorry man. Get me that drink for when I get back?”

“Uh--”

But Matt is gone, through the loose crowd, and out the front door.

He sighs.

It's gonna be a long night.

\---

It's the longest night of his life. The most frustrating, too, and he went to college for fucking aerospace engineering. Matt is somehow dodging him left and right, through no fault of his own. He keeps getting pulled away or simply wandering off. He loves the man (and _fuck,_ that is a scary thought) but he has the attention span of a gnat.

But hey, it's not like he's gone the night without kissing _anyone_. On the contrary; he's kissed plenty of people.

First, it's Lindsay, who squeezes past him to get in the kitchen, realizes her mistake, and gives him a quick peck and an apology. Next is Burnie, who seems to be in a rush and simply gives him some sort of weird paternal kiss on the top of his head. Then Miles. Jeremy, who's practically crying as it happens. Barb, who he's pretty sure tries to slip in some tongue. Gus, Joel, and countless others who are all apologetic because it seems word has spread to everyone except the one person he wants to kiss. And maybe hold hands with.

(Definitely hold hands with.)

It's almost midnight, and he's tired. The party has thinned a fair amount, because kids, and because work. But Matt is still here. He's talking to Larry, and he's wearing a Santa hat someone must have given him. It's sweet. He's cute. His hair is nice, and he's wearing a better fitting pair of jeans than usual, and Trevor wants to hang all over him, but he can't. He's stuck in this dumb kitchen, doing a dumb plan. But at least he has moral support. And physical support, what with the way his friends are also now trying to coerce Matt into the kitchen.

But it isn’t working. If anything, he feels worse. This has all been one massive failure and he just wants to go home, lay in bed, and feel sorry for himself for a little while. He's gotten quite good at it, what with all the practice.

Just as he's ready to throw in the towel, something renews his determination.

He looks up just in time to watch Matt laugh at something Larry has said. He's practically doubled over, face scrunched up and grinning. When he straightens up, that bright smile is still there.

“Screw it.”

Trevor reaches up and rips the little twig off the string it's been dangling from this whole night. With a single-mindedness he's never felt before, he strides over to Matt Bragg, mistletoe clenched in his fist.

His footsteps gain Matt's attention. Unfortunately, the posture and fist don't seem immediately welcoming. They've had unrelenting tension between them for a while now, and Matt knows Trevor is far from a violent person, but mad people do bad things. Like beat the shit out of him. Call him overly cautious, but he's pretty focused on saving his own skin when he turns tail for the nearest door.

The nearest door, which has a large, stationary Blaine Gibson effectively blocking it. He stops and stares at the man, who smiles at him in return, holding up a hand and spinning his index finger in a little circle. Turn around. Christ. Matt cautiously turns around and immediately starts to speak.

“Listen, Trevor, I--”

“ _Finally_.”

He's cut off by words.

Then he's cut off by a pair of lips on his own.

His eyes are wide. Trevor is kissing him. His body is tense. Trevor is kissing him. He doesn't know what to do. Trevor is kissing him.

But then he closes his eyes, he relaxes, and he kisses back with every ounce of desire he has, because _Trevor is kissing him_.

He tunes out the room, ignores the clapping and catcalls of their co-workers. That doesn't matter when he has Trevor Collins's hand on the back of his neck, holding him still as they kiss. His own hands find Trevor's waist like it's muscle memory, settling there as if he's completed some sort of puzzle. He figures he probably has, and the picture revealed is fucking spectacular.

When they separate, semi-breathless and not letting go on one another, Trevor grins. He laughs, and Matt laughs, too, the both of them sounding crazed as they collapse into a tight hug, faces buried into one another's necks to muffle their laughter. Trevor pulls away just enough to speak. 

“I've been trying to get you under that mistletoe all night.”

That makes Matt pull away, too, fixing him with the most dumbfounded look.

“You corny bastard.”

They kiss again. And again. And eventually the others are booing, telling them to get a room, but they're caught up in each other in a way they've always wanted. Soft touches, warm laughter, a peacefulness built between the two of them. 

When they walk out the front door and into the cold air later than night, it's with hands locked together and never wanting to let go.


End file.
